


The truth runs wild, like a tear down a cheek

by lolamit



Series: Tales from the Pearl of Africa [5]
Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kevin kinda helps for once, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, but just barely lmao my boy doesn't do chores, they're building a church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolamit/pseuds/lolamit
Summary: “I guess some virtues are more important than others,” says Kevin to which Connor shakes his head in a soft yet determined fashion.“Kindness is the greatest virtue in the world,” he says, and Kevin believes him.
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Series: Tales from the Pearl of Africa [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645078
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	The truth runs wild, like a tear down a cheek

Kevin Price isn’t lazy, has never been lazy, but mission work is so dull when there’s no purpose for it, no reward, and no appraisal waiting at the end of the day. Of course, Elder McKinley would applaud him for even lifting a finger, but Kevin already has his plans for the day, and they don’t include building a church or practicing religion of any kind. Still, he can’t help but find himself in close proximity of his former District Leader once he sets foot outside, and to be perfectly frank – something Kevin was very adept at – he doesn’t mind it all that much, especially not when Connor spots him and his face morphs into a bewildered smile. 

“Come to gloat, have you, Elder Price?” says Connor. “Or are you finally going to help out?”

“Why do we even need a church?” asks Kevin to which Connor tuts. 

“You may have lost your faith, Elder,” he says, with a casual shrug and forgiving smile.” But some of us are still taking this seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously,” Kevin counters, not entirely pleased with being called out like that, but he knows Connor never means any disrespect. “I just don’t see why we need a church if we’re not following the Book anymore.”

Connor turns his back toward him, returning his focus to the surprisingly sturdy foundation he, Elder Michaels, and Elder Davis have managed to construct. Kevin is only slightly impressed and honestly cares more for the way Elder McKinley’s shirt is sticking to the sweat on his back. Kevin shouldn’t find it attractive, but he does regardless and allows himself to stare while the Elder can’t catch him. 

“We’re not following _the_ Book, but we’re following _a_ Book,” Connor says as he continues working, hunched over as he’s sawing through a plank that Kevin assumes will work as part of the floor. “Or have you already forgotten about your mission companion? I mean, he’s not around much anyway, but he is the Prophet, you know.”

Connor flashes a playful grin at Kevin who instantly snaps his eyes from where they’d been fixed, and he offers a bored look in response that only makes the Elder laugh. 

Kevin still isn’t sold on the idea of building a church where the only religion being spread is based on something that had come out of Arnold’s imagination. A church could never do the Book of Arnold justice, Kevin knows this because Arnold has told him so, and Kevin agrees, although rather for other reasons. Reasons regarding his newfound distaste for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints – God, even thinking about it leaves a sour taste in his mouth – and his realization that most of the rules he’s been following his entire life are nothing but a load of crap. 

He feels compelled to tell Connor this, but decides against it, knowing the Elder would probably prefer to work in peace. Instead, he settles in on the ground, playing with the grass as he watches a sorry excuse for a church being built before his very eyes. 

He likes it, likes it far more than any temple he’s ever visited, anyway. A sorry excuse for a church might be the perfect fit for Arnold’s ridiculous albeit innovative take on religion. 

After a while, Elder McKinley tells Michaels and Davis to take a break, seeing as they were both sweating through their shirts and complaining about the heat. Connor is easy to convince, Kevin knows that better than anyone, and yet, the former District Leader stays behind when the other two head back toward the hut. Connor may be easy to convince, as long as the convincing isn’t done by himself. 

Kevin wonders why that is, why Connor never rests when there’s work to be finished, why he’s always one step ahead and anticipates the worst of everything, why he’s so kind and patient with everyone but himself. It is a bit of a mystery, he realizes but considers that, perhaps, that is the very reason he became District Leader in the first place. Perhaps that is precisely the virtue that Kevin had lacked when applying. 

“Need any help?” he asks as he gets up from the ground, receiving a dazed look for the still hard-at-work Elder. 

“Are you offering?” asks Connor, his smile filled with awe and disbelief. “I thought I wouldn’t live to see the day.”

“I came here to do something incredible,” Kevin shrugs simply, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I could at least contribute to the mark we’re leaving, even if it’s just a measly church.” 

“Way to sound enthusiastic,” laughs Connor in that bubbly way that feels as though it adds a year to Kevin’s life.

Kevin rolls his eyes and makes a move for the saw in Connor’s hand. “Besides, I might as well lighten your load, since you refuse to take a break.”

Connor gives him a knowing look, one that says Kevin shouldn’t talk about things he doesn’t know, but smiles, nonetheless. “That’s very nice of you, but I do _not_ trust you with that thing,” says Connor, taking the saw back from Kevin’s hands, and it’s teasing in the exact way Connor always teases – discreetly and with caution.  
“Could you measure the length of the floorboards for me instead?” 

Kevin nods, accepting the tape measure held out in front of him and sets to work as he hears Connor continue sawing. It’ll be a small church, that’s for sure, but at least they’re making something. At least they can leave here with the knowledge that they left something – however useful it’ll actually turn out – memorable behind. They will make a difference regardless of what Book they’re subscribing to, and Kevin is completely okay with that.

Not that he has contributed much thus far, but perhaps, and only perhaps, he is starting to see why Connor seems to enjoy his work so much. It does, kind of, feel like changing the world, one inch at a time. 

“How do you know how to do all this?” Kevin asks when he returns with the measurements. “Building, I mean.”

“My dad’s a carpenter,” Connor shrugs, somewhat hesitantly. “He made me build a treehouse from scratch when I was eleven.”

“On your own?”

“Obviously he helped quite a lot,” Connor laughs with sparkles in his eyes that strikes Kevin as rather wistful, but then again, nostalgia often is. “I didn’t want a treehouse, though.”

Kevin considers him for a moment, and realizes he understands fully why eleven-year-old Connor McKinley did, in fact, not want a treehouse. Connor McKinley is most positively terrified of heights. “Then why build one?” 

“I guess he just wanted something for us to bond over,” Connor shrugs again, and now the wistful tint is ever clearer in his eyes. “I never was the typical son he always wanted.”

There is a brief moment of silence where neither of them knows what to say. Kevin regrets bringing it up because Connor’s family is a wound that never fully heals and picking at scabs is no way to help reduce the bleeding. 

He offers a trying smile that he sees Connor register, but the Elder doesn’t return it. Instead, he shifts his focus back to the wooden planks in front of him and continues working with only slightly shakier hands than before. Kevin stops him before he manages to saw off his own hand.

“Let’s take a break,” he says to a reluctant Connor that watches him with wary eyes as he reaches out to remove the saw from his hand. 

“But I’m not finished,” comes a weak protest from Connor’s mouth that Kevin decides to ignore. 

He knows how Elder McKinley works and he knows that most of the time, where Kevin goes, Connor follows. Today was no exception, and soon they’re back at the hut, which lies oddly quiet for being the middle of the day. Kevin thinks no more of it, reckons that the other Elders were out basking in the sunlight as he would do himself, had he not worried about the increasingly upset expression on his former District Leader’s face.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” he tries, offering a glass of water to Connor since he knows the Elder often forgets to hydrate while busy with work. It’s only one of the many habits he’s picked up on, and Connor seems to have noticed as he offers a grateful smile in response. 

“Don’t be,” says Connor after finishing the glass in just a few gulps. “It’s one of the best memories I have of him, if I’m being honest.” 

“That’s sad,” falls from Kevin’s tongue before he can stop it, and he instantly shoots a forgiving glance as he scrambles to explain. “I mean, not sad, it’s just unfortunate that your fondest memory is of building something you didn’t even want.”

Connor smiles softly and the knot in Kevin’s stomach lessens considerably. “No, you’re right,” he says. “It is sad.”

And then falls that familiar silence once more, embracing them both tenderly in the way they’ve grown accustomed to by now. It is comforting, Kevin thinks, and though he can’t quite express why, he’s happy that these moments only happen between him and Connor. It simply would not be the same, sitting across the table from Arnold, neither of them uttering a word without the atmosphere being thick with awkward tension. Arnold is the type of person that fills those vast moments with laughter and intricate rants about movies Kevin has never even heard of, and that was comforting, too, in its own way, but it was nothing like this, nothing like the calming effect Elder McKinley brought with him anytime they were near each other. 

Kevin hopes Connor feels that, too. 

“I should probably get back to work,” says Connor after a while, but the Elder doesn’t move from his seat. 

“Why do you care so much?” Kevin asks dumbly, and he means it a lot softer than it comes out. “I thought you were leaving the Church once we go back.”

“I am,” Connor says, his voice wavering just enough to make Kevin’s eyebrows furrow. “I think I am. I want to.”

There is something about the way the Elder says the last bit that makes Kevin’s heart fall into the pit of his stomach. “But?”

Connor doesn’t respond at first, he simply watches Kevin with uncertain eyes and his mouth forming words that never make it past his lips. Then his gaze falls to his hands and Kevin notices they’re trembling, if only a little. 

“But, if we’re being realistic, Elder Price,” Connor starts, and Kevin wishes he would have used his first name. “What are we going to do? Where are we going to live? I can’t afford college without my parents’ help.”

It feels raw in a way Kevin finds trouble explaining, despite many attempts. Truth is, leaving the Church would prove itself a lot harder than Kevin had ever anticipated, and by acknowledging that, he’s more than certain it will be twice as difficult for Connor because Connor already has one secret weighing his conscience down considerably, telling his parents he no longer wants to be Mormon might just ruin the already frail relationship he has with his family. 

“There’s always community college,” he finds himself saying, instead of any words of encouragement. 

Connor smiles, and it’s knowing and grateful but still very self-aware in that way Connor often smiled. “I still can’t afford my own place,” he says and it hits Kevin then that Connor is counting on his parents throwing him out as soon as they find out. 

“Do you really think your parents will kick you out?”

Connor shifts in his seat, dodging every look Kevin shoots him as he puts on his District Leader face, then he lifts his head, meets Kevin’s eyes with a simple shrug and an unbothered expression. “That’s nothing you need to worry about, Elder Price,” he smiles and Kevin knows him well enough by now to see how uncomfortable he is with the current topic, but Kevin won’t let it go, not yet, or at least not until Connor smiles genuinely. 

“Well, I’m leaving too, and Arnold- Well, Arnold was barely a Mormon to begin with so he’ll probably leave as well,” Kevin thinks aloud and sees the expression on Connor’s face soften slightly, showing a hint of bewildered amusement as Kevin goes on. “His parents are pretty laidback, and Arnold says they have a lot of extra space since he’s an only child and they live in a four-bedroom, so we could probably stay there.”

Kevin says _we_ because it’s the pronoun Connor had used, and if he were honest, he found it quite difficult imagining his life without Connor McKinley, regardless if they were here in Uganda or home in Utah. It would be difficult separating from all the other Elders when their mission was finished, but Connor especially, for reasons Kevin had yet to figure out entirely. 

Connor watches him for a moment, blinking as though Kevin had just uttered the surprise of the decade; as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “We?” he asks, with great caution and slight disbelief. “As in both of us?”

Kevin laughs, and it comes out a bubbling sound that surprises himself more than anyone. “Of course,” he says, watching the shift from what was such clear doubt to what resembles hope in Connor’s eyes, yet there is still something in the way he searches Kevin’s face that feels uncertain, so Kevin adds, “You seem surprised,” and Connor’s cheeks turn a discreet pink that could easily be mistaken for sunburn, but Kevin knows and it sends a rush through his body that Connor would blush over something he said.

“It’s just,” Connor starts, turning his head so his eyes fall in line with the window behind Kevin. “I heard so many great things about the famous Elder Price before you got here,” his eyes shift back, locking with Kevin’s as he seems to be searching for a way to end the sentence, “but no one ever mentioned he could be so caring. So kind.”

It hits just a bit harder than Kevin would have preferred, and he knows that whatever things Connor was told about him before his arrival was pointedly centered around his drive to be the best Mormon the Church had ever seen, and unfortunately, that hadn’t included kindness, not even to Kevin himself. _Especially_ not to Kevin, now that he thinks about it. Kindness had not been a priority in his intricately calculated plan to convert every person he would meet, it had merely been about numbers, about stats and baptisms, about leaving a mark that would outlive him. Kevin had been destined for greatness, after all, and he says _had been_ because he’s starting to realize there may be more important things in life than leaving a legacy. 

“I guess some virtues are more important than others,” says Kevin to which Connor shakes his head in a soft yet determined fashion. 

“Kindness is the greatest virtue in the world,” he says, and Kevin believes him. 

“I don’t think a kind heart gets you into Heaven after you’ve broken most of the rules, though.”

Connor smiles then, and it’s small but warm and it lights up the room as if there were a thousand stars entrapped in Connor’s eyes. “You don’t believe in Heaven.”

“Maybe I do,” Kevin shrugs, but returns the smile because if anything, he’s happy he managed to talk Connor out of the slump he had put him in. 

“So,” Connor thinks and the look in his eyes is discreet and cautious, but oh so curious, “you believe in Heaven but not God?”

Kevin returns the glance, feeling a lot more confident back on steady ground. “I never said I don’t believe in God,” he points out to which Connor cocks an eyebrow. “I’m just not sure that Mormons have it the right way round.”

“Who does,” Connor leans forward, resting his elbows on the table as he watches Kevin with inquisitive eyes, “then?”

Kevin laughs again, only this time it comes out rather playful because there is something innately satisfactory in earning such curiosity from none other than Elder McKinley. “Hell, if I know,” he smiles. “But there are thousands of religions out there, so who knows, maybe there is a Heavenly Father, maybe there is a God or multiple Gods, maybe there’s Nirvana or Heaven, and, well, I don’t really know a lot about religion outside of the Church, but,” he pauses, not sure where he is going but determined to make a point, nonetheless. “But I don’t think it matters who’s right and who’s wrong. In the end, we’re all going _somewhere_ , so why not just focus on right now, you know?”

“Even if we’re going to Hell?”

“I think if God sends us to Hell for drinking coffee and liking boys, then I’m not certain I want to go to Heaven.”

Connor doesn’t answer, his eyes grown wide and fixed on Kevin’s in what appears to be a state of shock that Kevin isn’t sure the cause of. He wants to ask, afraid that he’d said something to put Connor back in the disheartened mood he’d been in only a few minutes ago, but decides against it. Most of the time, it is safer to wait the Elder out, and Kevin has patience to spare. 

For Connor, at least. 

The look in his eyes turns hesitant after a while, and Connor leans back in his chair, turning his gaze toward the window again as he sits in a silence that feels odd and different from what Connor usually radiated, so Kevin decides to break it.

“Don’t you think so?” 

Connor turns back, albeit carefully, and Kevin can see how he’s searching for an answer.  
In the end, he shrugs. Uncertain and simple, and it is far from enough to Kevin. 

“You’re not telling me something,” he says, and Connor’s face flashes to reveal a steely defense. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you’re going to Hell, you know. I’m sorry if it sounded like it.”

“No, that’s not,” Connor starts but falters, and decides to get up from his seat before Kevin barely has time to react.

Connor makes for the door in urgent haste, but Kevin is faster than most would anticipate and catches up as soon as Connor sets foot outside. Kevin stops him by grabbing his wrist, and the former District Leader groans in response that makes Kevin’s stomach both flutter and turn because as much as he adores any noise coming out of Connor’s mouth, he prefers it less when it’s out of frustration. 

“Did I say something?” he asks, and his voice sounds more frantic than he’d ever care to admit outside this moment. “Connor, did I say something wrong?”

Connor turns around in a grunt that seems most uncharacteristic, but his eyes are less annoyed and rather filled with doubt that Kevin is desperate to understand. “No, you said drinking coffee and liking-“ he falters again. “Nothing, Elder. It’s nothing, really.”

“Oh,” comes the realization, and it feels dumb in hindsight. He isn’t sure he meant what he thinks Connor thinks he meant, but then, he isn’t sure he didn’t mean it, either. “I, um.”

“I should get back to work, Kevin,” says Connor, a small smile trying on his lips as Kevin loosens the grip on his wrist, but as he turns around to leave, Kevin stops him once more and the look Connor shoots him is confused and curious, as Kevin is certain his own expression is, too. 

“You don’t need Heaven,” he blurts, and he isn’t sure it’s the least bit comforting at all, but it’s tugging at his brain and he wants Connor to hear it because it’s true – it might be true, that no matter what afterlife will bring them, Connor shouldn’t go his entire life worrying about it. He shouldn’t feel as though his soul is less worth for something so harmless, so natural, something he simply cannot change or forget, only forgive, if he ever finds the strength, and that’s it, that’s what he was trying to say all along but there is something about the way Connor watches him with such tense eyes that renders his mind completely blank. 

“I don’t?” Connor’s voice is so small and careful, Kevin is afraid it might break. 

He shakes his head, trying to decide the easiest way to explain. “Remember how you said that freedom is what you make it?” he asks, and Connor nods. “Well, maybe it’s the same with life. Maybe life is what you make it, so make it Heaven. That way you won’t have to wait for happiness, right? That way you can have it now.” 

Connor considers him for a moment, and Kevin realizes only now how close they’re standing. When he’d grabbed Connor’s arm the second time he must’ve pulled him closer toward him, and it should feel unnatural, or strange, or terrifying, yet there is that all-encompassing comfort emanating from Connor that fills his chest with something he couldn’t describe if his life so depended on it. 

“Do you really believe that?” Connor asks softly and Kevin nods. 

“I do,” he says with conviction. “You deserve to be happy.” 

Connor smiles then, and it’s discreet and careful but it’s still a smile, and God knows it’s the most beautiful thing Kevin has ever seen. “You’re kind, Elder Price,” he says with a look that makes Kevin want to lean in even closer, but he decides against it. He still isn’t sure it’s what he wants, or what Connor wants, for that matter, and honestly, he is quite content like this, too, because they’re still close, so close, and they’re not backing away. “Perhaps that’s the mark you’re leaving here – kindness. It might not be something incredible, but it’s enough to change lives, still.”

It’s so typical, Kevin thinks, that even in a moment where Kevin is the one who should be doing the encouraging, Connor finds a way to turn the tables, but he’s left so near speechless by the sheer honesty in Connor’s words to even dispute it. Because maybe he’s right, maybe being kind is worth more than anything they had to offer from the Book of Mormon, maybe there is no right or wrong, as long as they treat each other with kindness and respect, maybe that way, religion doesn’t have to be about the grand scheme of things, but simply about appreciating the things they have and the things they have to offer to those around. Maybe they are changing lives, and maybe that is incredible, too. 

Still, a part of him is hesitant. A part of him is still doubtful that he’s making any difference for the better at all, and that he’s simply wasting his time trying, even when he’s not. A part of him finds it difficult to believe that something so simple as kindness can change lives, but then Connor opens his mouth again, and it hits different this time, so very different.

“Or at least the one.”

And he realizes then, that his life has changed, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not too happy with this one if I'm being completely honest, it feels rushed and different from the others, but I like parts of it so imma post it anyway. Also, I don't know why they shrug so much in this, your guess is as good as mine.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, though! This little series is coming to an end soon, but it's gonna take me some time to get the remaining pieces out, because life is apparently still a thing, I had just forgotten, oops. 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment if you liked it, or maybe a kudos (is it _a_ kudos, I never figured out), means the world and more to me and my dwindling motivation. Oh, and feel free to like, point out things or give me feedback, too! I may be absolute shit at taking criticism but trust me, I need it. 
> 
> Hope you're staying safe, and as always, thank you for reading xx
> 
> ~~yes the title is a troye sivan lyric he's amazing shush~~


End file.
